Chapter 10
Megan
I’ve never left his place like that. He’s never left mine like that either.
It feels gross, unsettling. I feel sick and unfulfilled.
I’m replaying it all in my head—what he could’ve said to make it better, what I could’ve done to not even cause the situation in the first place.
I don’t want to fight about something like this ever again.
He calls me as I’m about to get in the shower. I let it ring twice before answering.
“Hey,” I say.
“I hate how you left,” he admits. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut and not said anything.”
I close my eyes. “No.” I take a breath. “I understand you don’t want to eat canned soup all the time, or frozen pizzas, but I had a long day moving in. I was tired. I just—”
“You’re right, Megs. I get it. I wasn’t thinking and I’m really sorry. I realized I was pretty spoiled growing up with how my mom was, and I have to understand that’s not everyone. And that’s okay, because I love you.”
I can hear it in his voice, how sincere he truly is.
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
“It’s not okay. It won’t happen again.”
I smile to myself. “Okay. I just want to move past this and focus on our wedding day and be excited.”
“Me too. I’m still excited, are you?”
“Of course I am.” My voice cracks just a little. “I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a kid. Now it’s here, and it’s with you. Not even a fight could take that away from me.”
“Good.” He laughs. “I’m sure we’ll have our moments.”
“I know. And we’ll figure them out.”
“I love you,” he adds.
“I love you too.”
When we hang up, the quiet of my room settles around me again, soft and still in a way it hasn’t been all evening. I stare at the phone for a second, letting the sound of his voice linger in the air. It’s like something inside my chest finally loosens.
We’re good. We’re really good.
I step into the bathroom, flip on the light, and twist the shower knob until steam starts to fog the mirror. My fingers slip into my hair, pulling it out of its low ponytail, and the weight of it falling over my shoulders feels like relief all on its own.
The tension drains out of me with the same slow ease as the room fills with heat. My shoulders drop. My breathing steadies.
It’s like my whole body finally admits, Okay, you can calm down now.
Mason and I are okay. We talked, we cleared the air, we’re back on the same page. And that’s all I needed.
* * *
By the time I pull into the church parking lot the next evening, my stomach is a mess of nerves and butterflies.
Not about marrying Mason, but about everything else.
The wedding itself, the plans, the schedule I want to follow, whether the little ones will cooperate to walk down the aisle tomorrow.
I keep telling myself it’s just the rehearsal. But after tonight, it’s the real thing.
Mason is waiting for me outside the doors. He greets me with a kiss and a gentle hug, his nerves not really noticeable.
I follow him inside and the noise hits me like a wave.
Emma and Cora are running down the aisle like it’s a racetrack.
Wesley and Leonard are carrying chairs from the fellowship hall to the sanctuary.
Ella’s holding Hallie, talking to Maureen and Addison.
Karissa’s sitting beside Sierra in a pew, each of them have a nursing cover over themselves.
Before long we are all in our spots, music playing, and the girls walk down the aisle. Now it’s just me and Dad, adjusting the way we loop our arms together before we have to start.
We start down the aisle, everyone giggling as Cora decides to sit on the floor at Karissa’s feet. Emma throws her petals all in one giant clump right at Mason’s feet, which makes everyone laugh so hard. It’s chaos, pure and simple, but it’s my new family.
Mason’s eyes stay on me the whole time, like I’m the only person in the room. By the time I reach him, the nerves dull and the excitement rises.
The pastor goes over the ceremony order—who stands where, when the music will start, how slow we’re supposed to walk.
Jesse and Cody crack a few inside jokes that everyone else seems to find hilarious.
I have no idea what they mean, but I laugh anyway, because apparently that’s what you do when you marry into this circus.
When we’re dismissed to the fellowship hall for dinner, it’s chaos again. Everyone talking and laughing, kids running around, and I’m answering seventeen hundred questions about decorations, timing, flowers, and photos. My brain feels like it’s being tossed in a blender.
By the time I finish my plate, I’m one question away from faking a medical emergency. Mason barely notices. He’s calm, happy, and laughing. Which is fine, it’s good. I’m glad he’s not stressed.
I slip into the bathroom for a minute of quiet though. I need to breathe and let my brain thaw. I stare at myself in the mirror and think, Okay. You’re fine. Tomorrow’s the big day and then this will all be over.
The second I open the door to go back, I freeze. Because they’re there. All three of them. Ella. Karissa. Addison.
They’re lined up shoulder to shoulder, like some kind of bridal SWAT team, staring at me with matching game-day faces.
“Oh.” I blink. “Hi?”
Ella crosses her arms like she got elected leader. “We came to offer advice.”
“Advice?” I repeat carefully, because this feels like a trap.
“Or answer questions,” Addison adds, all soft and sweet, like that makes this less terrifying.
“Questions?” I echo, already bracing myself.
Karissa bounces once on her toes, and then blurts, at full volume…
“About SEX!”
The wallpaper shakes. My soul leaves my body. I am dead. Ella and Addison both whip toward her like she just fired a gun.
“Karissa!” they hiss at the same time, elbowing her so hard she folds over and slaps a hand over her mouth.
Behind her fingers she whispers, “Sorry!”
My face is so hot I could light up the emergency exit sign.
Ella smooths her hair, regaining composure. “My number one piece of advice is to take your time. With everything.”
Addison nods earnestly. “Yes, and don’t have expectations. None. Zero. Seriously.”
“I—okay,” I stutter. “That’s…good. Thank you. I’ll…keep that in mind.”
Then I look at Karissa. Which is a big mistake.
She smirks mischievously. “Eye contact.”
My jaw drops open. Ella loses it laughing, clapping like this is the best moment of her life. Addison’s hands fly to her face in pure horror.
“She did not just say that.” Addison groans from behind her fingers.
“Oh, c’mon, Addie.” Ella nudges her, giggling. “Be mature.”
“I am being mature,” Addison insists. “But you two are forgetting”—she points dramatically at Ella, then at Karissa—“you are married to brothers. My brothers. I do not want details.”
Karissa shrugs, unapologetic. “Well, I didn’t give any details…I just said eye contact.”
“Karissa!” Addison yells again.
Ella’s wheezing. I’m mortified. And somehow…this is the most Jennings family moment I’ve ever been part of.
By the time we rejoin everyone else, something inside me feels…lighter. The stress isn’t gone but it’s different now. Like someone cracked open a window in a hot room.
I needed that laugh. That ridiculous, embarrassing, blush-until-I-die moment outside the church bathroom.
A reminder that, yes, tomorrow is a big day. A holy, sacred, life-changing day. But it doesn’t have to feel so stiff or formal or perfect. I don’t need to stress over every little detail. I don’t need to hold my breath until the ceremony starts.
At the end of the day, it’s about marrying Mason.
Becoming one under God. Living a life that reflects Him. Together.
All the other stuff? The flowers, the seating chart, the dresses, the rehearsal chaos? It’s just noise in the background.
Mason’s leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked in his pockets, the evening light catching the edge of his jaw. When he sees me, his face changes subtly, like he’s checking, without a word, if I’m alright.
The girls walk past him, and he pushes off the frame and meets me halfway. I slip my hand into his, and his fingers curl around mine.
“Good?” he asks. His gaze settles on me—the sweet kind first, then the deeper kind.
“More than good,” I murmur.
Because suddenly…I am.
* * *
I can’t sleep. My room feels too quiet, too heavy with tomorrow waiting on the other side of morning.
I curl on my side, staring at the wall, replaying every detail in my head, even though three hours ago I told myself I wasn’t gonna do that.
But now I’m thinking about it all again—how I’ll walk, how I’ll smile, how Mason will look standing at the altar.
Somewhere between the nerves and the excitement, my mind drifts back to the night he asked me to marry him.
It wasn’t fancy, not the way movies make it. No string lights or photographers hiding in the bushes. Just in a field, by a fence, sunset in the background, and Mason pacing like he’d forgotten how to stand still.
The sky was painted streaks of orange and pink; the kind of sunset that makes Bellamy look like a postcard. When he asked me to get out of the truck, I thought he wanted to take a picture or dance by the way he smirked at me, but it was more than that.
“I know we haven’t been together that long,” he said. “Some people are gonna say it’s too fast. Maybe it is. But, Meg, I’ve known since that first night I picked you up from your place that I wasn’t gonna let you go anywhere.”
My heart stopped. The world narrowed down to his voice, his hand, the steady way he looked at me now.
“I don’t want to wait.” He reached into his pocket, and my breath caught. “So I’m not going to.”
When he dropped down on one knee, I actually forgot how to breathe.
“Megan,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “will you marry me?”
I laughed—more like choked—and pressed my hands to my mouth. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Tears blurred everything but him. “Yes! Of course, yes.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger—hands still shaking—and then he stood, lifting me off my feet as I wrapped my arms around his neck. And as of now, it was the best day of my life. But tomorrow? Tomorrow might just top it.